


Holding Hands

by traumschwinge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the animal fact that otters hold hands while they're sleeping. Sherlock dozes off on the tube and while he's sleeping reaches for John's hand. John doesn't know what to think of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Hands

John looks down at his hand. His hand, currently held by Sherlock. Sherlock, who's currently dozing against his shoulder. He sighs. What did he do to deserve this? Then again, it's somewhat cute. John can't help a small smile.

They're sitting in the tube, on their way home from a case that had demanded them to visit the outskirts of London. On their way back they hadn't been able to hail a cab, so there hadn't be much option left then to take the tube back home to Bakerstreet. Luckily for them, the wagon they had entered had been almost empty, which meant seats. Unluckily for John, Sherlock had almost immediately fallen asleep.

John had tried to inch away a bit. He hadn't want to be used as a cushion. Seeing how Sherlock was a lot taller than him, the consulting detective would pay for this afterward with backache, but still. But as soon as they weren't touching anymore, Sherlock had reached for his hand and taken hold of it. John had tried and failed to retrieve his hand.

All he has left to do now is stare at the adds and pray for this trip to be over soon or for Sherlock to wake up. Pretending he doesn't know the man who's sleeping on his shoulder is quite hard when they're holding hands. Not that it is a bad thing. Sherlock's hand is warm and surprisingly soft. Much softer than John's own anyway, which was rough and calloused.

They're a few stations away from their destination when Sherlock stirs again. He slowly lifts his head and straightens. John watches him, a teeny-tiny smile on his lips. He follows Sherlock gaze down to their entwined fingers and has to resist the urge to pull his hand away. Or maybe hold onto Sherlock's hand tighter. Probably the first.

“John,” Sherlock says after he had cleared his throat. “We're holding hands. Why are we holding hands?” He looks down at their connected hands like this is another riddle that awaits solution.

“Because you took my hand,” John huffs back. “And you didn't want to let go.” After a second, he adds, “Would you let go now that you're awake?”

Sherlock ignores that last sentence. Instead, he declares, “I did no such thing.” He's still staring at their hands.

“You were sleeping,” John grumbles. “Of course you don't know.”

“Well, for all I know, you could as well have taken mine,” Sherlock replies matter of fact-ly. He lifts his hand and John's he's holding in at and starts to turn them so he can look at them from different angles. “Fascinating,” he murmurs.

John is now finally able to snatch his hand away. “There's nothing fascinating about you and me, holding hands,” he snaps. “You just unconsciously took my hand and that's it.”

“But why?”

“What?”

“Why did I take your hand while I was sleeping?” Sherlock asks, very seriously. “I don't understand. John, why did I take your hand?”

John shrugs. How should he know? But still, he says, “Well, people, especially children, often take the hand of someone they're afraid to loose, to ensure the other won't walk away from them...did you expect me to leave you sleeping in the tube?” He doesn't want to voice the suspicion he thinks would be more likely. If he doesn't say it out loud, he could still pretend he doesn't notice.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “It's not like you could leave me here,” he says. “I would have noticed.”

John rolls his eyes. “Of course you would,” he sighs.

“I would,” Sherlock whispers, leaning closer to John. “I would, because I always notice you.”

John stares at his friend, unable to say anything in reply. For the lack of a better thing to do, he lowers his head and stares at the floor between his feet. He can feel his ears burn.

“John,” Sherlock suddenly calls him, sounding as if he was a bit away. “John, are you coming?”

Puzzled, John looks up to see Sherlock standing by the doors. They've almost reached their stop. He stumbles to his feet and quickly hurries over to his friend.

Sherlock smiles down at him. “You know, John, I don't want to leave you either,” he says fondly before he steps out onto the platform.

John almost misses the stop.


End file.
